The Destiny of Friends
by Gammaent
Summary: After the attack on Earth and during the seven week journey to the Expanse, a friendship develops on Enterprise and grows into something more as Enterprise begins its hunt for the mysterious Xindi
1. Only For You

**Chapter 1: Only For You**

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek…and we saw what they did with it…

* * *

**Starfleet HQ, San Francisco**

**April 27, 2153**

A salty breeze drifted past the lone figure standing at the entrance of Fleet Operations. The soft moonlight melted across the scene only to disappear into the stark yellow spreading from the artificial lighting, creating an odd contrast between the light's supple peace and the flurry of activity within the building.

As busy as Starfleet was, there was another flurry of activity. A war was being waged, a war between logic and emotion, a war all Vulcans had fought for over two thousand years, but to the onlooker, only a silent rustling of leaves could be heard.

Why had she said those infamous words, the words which she had just a year ago denied, claimed how they went against not just Vulcan beliefs, but tradition, heritage and duty.

"I believe that choice should be mine" 

The words still echoed through the air, haunting her as they returned to her with each passing breeze, reminding her of what she had just said to the Ambassador.

The Ambassador. He had informed her of the Vulcan High Command's decision, but yet he had not forced it upon her. In his own way, he had given her a choice, that should she choose to remain on _Enterprise_ she would have to resign her commission. The fact that he had even spoken of the consequences said volumes for a Vulcan. Silently, he was almost giving support if T'Pol were to choose such a course of action.

But what to do?

Captain Vanik, over a year ago, had told her to leave the humans. But that was over a year ago. So much had changed, so much had been done, so much had been said.

If she remained, where were her loyalties? Deep inside her mind she knew- her loyalties were with _Enterprise_. The short conversation with the Doctor had changed so much, made her recognize so much. She also realized how many of her decisions were influenced by her subconscious. But why was her loyalty so tied to the human ship?

As she fixed her eyes upon the ground, they did something very human, they darted, searching for an answer as if it were written upon ground. Her eyes stilled for a moment and her whole frame froze as a memory played back, almost as if she were back again on the _Enterprise_ only weeks after first joining…

It was the day she realized so much about her human crewmates, and humanity in general. The Captain had been so, to put it mildly, ecstatic over a simple comet. Had she been serving on a Vulcan vessel, the comet would have simply been catalogued and then ignored, but her human crewmates decided to investigate. And investigate they did, sending down Reed and Maywheather to collect core samples when they found the presence of a rare element which even the Vulcan Science Directorate had expressed an interest in. Their exploration, however, had been interrupted by the visit of the T'Mur and by Captain Vanik. Though she had found it odd, she had not voiced that opinion to the Captain, but regardless, he had deduced as much from her earlier comments of 'Vulcans and their lack of curiosity in comets'. But, motivation aside, the Captain had graciously invited Captain Vanik aboard for a dinner, a dinner that would show her so much.

The Captain had asked Chef to prepare a traditional Vulcan meal, and surprisingly one usually not appreciated by human tastes. Yet, despite such, Commander Tucker and the Captain ate the meal and attempted to engage the Vulcan in conversation. When either the Captain or the Commander attempted to comment about their interest in Vulcan things, whether it be engineering to personal experiences, Vanik had shot them down with icyness evident even to a Vulcan. He was dismissive and patronizing of the humans, adding a final insult by talking about humans as primates to be admired in a zoo, with his comment of how little interest they held for him. T'Pol herself couldn't help but feel a bit defensive for her human crewmates, who, despite their inexperience, had proven in their few short weeks that they were able to deal with the challenges of deep space travel, and that the Vulcan opinion of humanity, perhaps, was just that, an opinion…

But it was not those events that had changed her so drastically. It was those events with a one Commander Charles Tucker the Third. How he had, without any need to, admitted his transgression of her privacy. How this explosive, unrestrained human had muted himself, scrunched his forehead and with such a pure sincerity that the Vulcan herself couldn't deny, apologized. How his eyes had pleaded for her to understand that he had not meant to commit such a transgression, how he didn't distrust her only because she was a Vulcan, how he felt that he had wronged her in a way that was above either being simply Human or simply Vulcan. He had viewed her a person first and treated her as a person first. He had overcome his preconceptions and stuck to his honor and his compassion, the side that made him so distinctly Trip.

And even more than that, he had baffled her. She had decided that he was, impossibly, the embodiment of every distasteful human trait. She initially thought of him as illogical at the least, but also arrogant, insensitive, immature, impulsive, rash, and perhaps even of questionable honor. After all, how does a male become pregnant only two weeks into a mission?

Had he been Vulcan, an apology would have been unnecessary. It would have been illogical. But even the Vulcan couldn't help but acknowledge that what he had done was right. And they were both the better for it, though at the time she had responded with nothing but sarcasm.

Even the night before he had invited her to eat with him when he had been so obviously tired. He had been what Ensign Sato deemed "a gentleman", not because she was a Vulcan or second-in-command, but because she was a fellow crewmate. Upon joining him he had engaged her in conversation, attempting to, now that she realized it, treat her in a manner to indicate that he fully accepted her, accepted who she was and not to view her simply as a Vulcan officer. He had even recognized the subtle changed in her posture, her breathing, the far away look in her eyes, asking her if everything as alright, all out concern. It had disturbed her at the time that her control had slipped for such a short time that even a human had noticed, but later she would realize that only Commander Tucker would have recognized such a subtle slip, because, as she soon began to understand, he was attempting to befriend her, attempting to make her feel apart of the larger crew of _Enterprise_.

And then there was the discussion in her quarters, how the Commander had attempted to, despite the difficulty, offer his opinion regarding her situation. How he had said words that were so simple, yet so difficult to fulfill in real life. Do what you want to, he had told her, telling her about her free will, her choice. He had believed that he had been imparting an alien, a human value upon her when in reality he had not. She had just wished not to recognize it at the time. Even she had admitted that Vulcans could develop affection for one another and that was expected of her and Koss over time. Upon further contemplation, regarding Captain Vanik and the events folding around her, she had made her decision. It was her choice and she had much to learn from her human crewmates…

And now she was standing, on a clear night, the stars silently blinking at her, fighting the war of logic. Her human crewmates weren't immature or primitive as many Vulcans believed. Over the course of two years, her human crewmates had established better relations with several alien species than Vulcans had in centuries. And the prime difference: human compassion and understanding. They weren't the arrogant and inexperienced species that Captain Vanik had declared to Captain Archer, they were a people who were curious and accepted their emotions, but when the need arose, were able to act with logic. Wasn't it Captain Archer who had wanted to learn more about Vulcan culture and detoured to visit P'Jem, only to discover that it was the Vulcans who were violating an interplanetary treaty? Many Vulcans, when residing on Earth, refused to leave the compound and explore Earth culture, and here, Earth's first starship had, in its first weeks, already made an attempt to explore its ally's culture. Hadn't the humans risked their lives for Ambassador V'Lar, and using human ingenuity, saved her life? Hadn't the humans faced the criticism of the Vulcans, and even fought against the termination of their program, a program that had in some areas accomplished more in two years than what the Vulcans had accomplished in two thousand?

The humans had continuously shared their scientific discoveries, their reports, their databases. They had even given Vulcans their transporter technology, a concept that the Vulcan Science Directorate had deemed impossible. And now, when Earth had suffered a devastating attack, what was its, as Earth deemed, "friend and most important ally" doing? Nothing. Because it wasn't logical.

Had anyone been around, they would have seen the Vulcan exhale sharply in a Vulcan equivalent of a snort. And at that T'Pol blinked, breaking her frozen contemplation.

She knew Tolaris' attack and the subsequent P'naar Syndrome had weakened her control, but had she just expressed disbelief at logic?

"Perhaps yer pickin' up some of our bad habits" 

The words Commander Tucker had shot at her now were ones she could not deny. She herself knew that her subconscious influenced her decisions, decisions regarding her marriage to Koss, to exploring her emotions, even to defending _Enterprise_ and its mission.

But to quit the High Command? Could she really execute such an affront to Vulcan culture, her Vulcan heritage? As T'Pol continued thinking, she realized that perhaps it was time to once again follow the Doctor's advice, perhaps she should talk about it with someone else, obtain a second opinion, but who?

Her closest 'friends' were all on _Enterprise_. She had noticed how Ensign Maywhether would always offer her a greeting, a custom he practiced only for her. She realized how it was his way of accepting her, of respecting her. Lieutenant Reed; she had admired his control and objectivity, his dedication to duty. He always asked her opinion on procedure and protocol, recognizing her expertise and experience. Captain Archer was one of the three humans with which she truly felt at ease. She admired his compassion, his flexibility, and his ingenuity. She recognized his attempts at friendship, but there was something that disturbed her. She had early on realized that he had a romantic interest in her, an interest he was not all too well at hiding. Though she appreciated his attempts at friendship, that awareness in their dynamic had always kept T'Pol reserved around him, always on the defensive. Ensign Sato, an interaction that had started off with mistrust had developed into one of deep respect and understanding, was one that she found unusually fulfilling. Ensign Sato would often invite the Vulcan to her table when she was enjoying tea late at night, during which time both would discuss various topics, most importantly for T'Pol, her fellow human crewmates. But it was a close relationship of colleagues, not one of a personal nature. Even so, there was still one person, one human whom she trusted above all others…

Commander Tucker 

How that was even possible, she did not know. He had exasperated her, challenged her, and argued with her at every step. He even managed to annoy her, though she would never admit it. Yet there was something wholly innocent about him, wholly unique. He had viewed her as a person, befriended her as a person. He had tried to include her in movie night, attempted to share his desserts, his interests, and all the things he enjoyed with her. While the Captain had been motivated by his underlying attraction, the Commander had acted only out of compassion, out of a friendship that had been festering between the two. He continued to argue and provoke her which she soon came to realize was his way of demonstrating affection and friendship. He had been the one, who, without being told, had been gentler with her, concerned for her after Tolaris' attack, realizing that something was wrong. He was the one, who, unasked, would answer her questions regarding human behavior, human sayings, and the crew in general. He was the one, who would explain movies to her, and no matter what she would say or do, he would always invite her to the next movie night, ever since she had acquiesced to watch Frankenstein. He had even recommended and given her novels after she expressed her interesting in literature.

Standing in front of Fleet Operations, she realized she had been staring at nothing in particular, but all of a sudden was jolted back into reality as another salt scented breeze bit into her, causing her to look at her surroundings, when she saw her reflection in the glass pyramidal sculpture in front of her.

It disturbed her that her reflection was so stoic, so Vulcan, only because the Commander had seen right through that expression so often, so recently. How she had let him see past that demeanor she cast for everyone else. But why? Because he was her only true friend, she decided, her best friend. Her t'hai'la.

Had she just thought that? Of course she respected him, trusted him, even took a small amount of very unVulcan pleasure in arguing with him, but that word had more connotations then just the simple word friend had in English.

Disturbed by the direction her thoughts were going, she looked up to the stars and saw Earth's satellite, marred with craters and other phenomenon. And now Earth had a crater, thousands of kilometers long, resulting in seven million deaths. An attack that had led her to this point, to a point where she would be forced to make a decision regarding her future.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders she assembled her resolve. With a final look at her surroundings, she turned and headed back into the lobby of Fleet Operations, with the single intent of contacting her best friend to help her in her time of crises, a time when it seemed her logic would simply not provide an answer…

Back inside the building, she took comfort in the soft yellow lighting, the warm heat that engulfed the room. Formulating her plan, she pulled out her communicator and flipped it open.

"T'Pol to _Enterprise_"

After a moment of silence, a familiar voice came to life over the comm link.

"Reed here, what can I do for you Sub-commander?"

"I needed to speak to Commander Tucker regarding an important matter."

There was a few seconds of silence, a few seconds of hesitation that seemed odd to T'Pol, but before she could consider the reasons, the comm sprung to life.

"The Commander took an early leave around 14:00. He received a communique and, with the Captain's permission, took a shuttlepod down to the Starfleet Camp set up in Florida investigating the attack. Would you like me to forward a message Sub-commander?"

"No Lieutenant, that will not be necessary. T'Pol out."

Only one more person left to contact, T'Pol quickly commed the Captain

"Archer here T'Pol, everything alright with Soval?"

"Yes Captain, did you send Commander Tucker to Florida for the investigation?"

"About seven hours ago, we needed a few scans regarding the quantum residue from the weapon, it shouldn't have taken him more than an hour though. He should be back at _Enterprise_ by now. Anything wrong that I should be made aware of Sub-Commander?"

"I do not believe so, thank you. T'Pol out."

Slipping the communicator back into her belt, she felt as if there was a piece of the puzzle missing, a situation which she was familiar with, but had only faced in the context of a scientific puzzle or when she had worked for the Ministry of Security. Logically, the Commander had been assigned a task in the investigation and had headed to Florida to fulfill his duty. Soval had hinted that she did not have much time since _Enterprise_ would be shipping out soon. She glanced at the chronometer and saw that it was nearly 21:00. She knew that the investigation in Florida was being run constantly and by San Francisco time, but even then it was getting late. But Commander Tucker never slept before 23:00, and if she could acquire a shuttle, she could be at the investigation camp by 22:00.

How to get a shuttle though. Then she remembered, with the constant need to transport Starfleet personnel between Headquarters and the temporary camp in Florida, a constant shuttle operation had been established which provided transportation to and from the Florida camp at every hour. As the chief Science officer and second in command of Earth's only deep space vessel, she was certain she could acquire a spot on the 21:00 flight.

With her plan and resolve set, she turned and left Fleet Operations heading for the shuttle hangers. As she retreated from Fleet Operations, her demeanor was every inch Vulcan, but her thoughts were far from so, confused and chaotic all because she had, for a lack of better saying, chosen to question logic.

* * *

**Temporary Memorial, Florida**

**April 27, 2153**

It had to have been hours, Trip thought, staring into the flickering flame of the candle he was cradling reverently in his hands, unable to take comfort from its sweet warmth. The day flashed before him in a surreal playback, eating away at his soul, memory after memory.

It had been around 13:30 when Hoshi had commed him in his quarters, informing him that he had a message from his parents. For the first time in days, there was a moment of happiness for Trip, pure, untainted happiness. Trip had been trying to contact his parents and older brother and sister ever since the attack, but he had yet to receive a reply. It hadn't bothered him, since he knew what they must be going through, he had expected to meet them at Lizzie's memorial and share his grief with them then. He had even snapped at Malcom earlier when he had mentioned a memorial, but later had explained to him that he was just frustrated for not hearing from anyone. But it wasn't just frustration. There had been this painful ache in his chest that just wouldn't go away. Yet he had yet to shed a tear, somehow convincing himself that it just wasn't true. But it was just denial. He knew that nothing could ever help, but his parents, Daniel, and Janet had always been constants of comfort in his life, sources of security, of love and warmth. It was all he had to look forward to…and finally…a letter.

As Hoshi continued, she informed him that Captain Archer needed to have him run a few scans at the Florida attack, and that he had approved the use of a shuttlepod for him. As she signed off, he quickly grabbed a candle he had acquired for Lizzie's memorial, he knew that was the reason his parents had contacted him, he just knew. He would light it and keep it lit no matter what. He would not fail again, never again. He quickly downloaded the message onto a padd and headed for the shuttlebay, taking only the padd, the candle, and the bag of equipment he needed to fulfill his mission.

Over an hour later, Trip had finished the scans and had been sitting at the investigation camp mess hall, mulling over a cup of coffee. His eyes kept going over his parent's letter, not taking in any of the words yet knowing every one of them. They didn't mean it, did they? No, they couldn't have. Nothing would stop him from being at Lizzie's memorial, nothing.

Set in his resolve, he took the shuttle and within 20 minutes found himself walking to the entrance of Cochrane Park outside of New Orleans. He understood why they had chosen this park, it had been Lizzie's design. With a pang he remembered how she had talked about the design for hours, how the idea for its layout had come from the schematic of the Phoenix which hung in Trip's room. It had been her favorite project, and with no body for a funeral, it was the most appropriate place to remember her. Even from this distance he could see the small gathering of Lizzie's friends and his family by a small memorial.

It was nearly 18:00 local time, the sun had begun to set and the entire seen was bathed in a surreal orange, with the figures surrounding a glowing collection of candles, flowers and messages. Clutching his own more fiercely, Trip hastened forward, his demeanor firm but his eyes desperate, somehow pleading that this memorial would let him be with Lizzie one last time, one last time when he could say goodbye.

As if sensing his presence, two of the figures separated from the small vigil and made their way towards him. As they got closer, a small smile played across his face, a gesture that almost hurt, seeming so unfamiliar to him…

Within hearing range, he offered his greeting, "Mom, Dad…"

Taking one large step forward, he hugged his Mom, a silent tear running down his face. His arms engulfed her frame, his head coming upon her shoulder and, out of pure instinct, nuzzling as if to take some measure of comfort and protection. As he continued to keep his arms wrapped around her, he noticed that her hands had come to rest on his shoulders, but it wasn't the embrace he remembered. She was tense, unmoving, hesitant, so different from his memories. But it was more then that, it wasn't the warm embrace that he remembered. It was cold, too cold.

Releasing his grip, he pulled back, a puzzled look on his face, his eyes full of confusion, "Mom?"

"Didn't you get our message," she said, in a voice hoarse from grief and in a whisper that he had to strain to hear. She wasn't even looking him in the eye, and instead, turned her back and was gazing upon the glow from the candles at the memorial.

"Ya didn't mean it, did you? I won't say anything, I just wanted ta say goodbye to Lizzie…"

"And you did," his dad cut in, his voice clipped and calculated, traced with a touch of ice which took the breath out of Trip. "Just leave, go back to your ship and just leave…"

"But Mom….Dad…," Trip began, but to no avail. Even before the words were out, his parents had turned and left him standing, his words lost in the breeze. It felt that something in him had died, withered away and died. Trip didn't remember how long he stood there, and without any indication, turned and headed towards the shuttlepod.

It was how he found himself here, sitting on a bench in front of the temporary memorial not too far way from the investigation camp. He knew it was late, nearly 01:00 by local time and the memorial was empty save for him.

Nobody had asked him if he had needed time off, he had denied it even to Malcom. But to not be able to go to her memorial? He had taken the rest of today and tomorrow morning off saying he had personal business, and nobody had questioned him. But now, he sat, alone, on the bench in his uniform, holding the candle he had lit after having arrived at the memorial.

His uniform. He had been so proud the first time he had worn it, first time he had entered _Enterprise_'s engine room. But now, it stuck to him, like dirt that wouldn't go away no matter how much you rubbed or cleaned. But that was just denial. He wasn't angry at his uniform, it was just a scapegoat. No, he was angry with himself.

_I'm so sorry Elizabeth…._

It was the lone thought that echoed in his mind. He looked up and surveyed the destruction and fresh tears trickled down his cheeks. After returning, he had cried for the first time, and he was glad he was alone. Unable to be seen, he thought, as nothing but a failure, a weak excuse, a disgrace. The night sky was so peaceful, so deceptive, that Trip couldn't but help but hate the irony.

I always promised ta take care of ya Elizabeth, always. And now Mom and Dad say that I was the one that killed ya…you gotta believe me that's not true Lizzie, I love ya more then my own life…

Trip's parents were accusing him of killing Elizabeth. O, he might not have pulled the trigger, but to them, it was one and the same. It seemed as if Trip had not only lost his baby sister, but his family as well. The family he loved and cared about so much it hurt. To lose them like this was unbearable.

He looked down upon the candle once again, noticing its flame getting weaker. Instinctively he protected it with his body, allowing it to grow stronger, protected from the wind by nothing more than his frame.

_I won't fail ever again Lizzie, you have mah word. I may not be able ta attend yer memorial, but I'll sure as hell have mah own. I'll never let this flame go out, never…_

_I'm so sorry I never gotta say goodbye to ya Lizzie. All those times ya wanted to go to the movies with me but I would fight with ya? What I wouldn't give for another fight like that…what I wouldn't give…_

Had anyone been around to watch, the pain etched in Trip's face would have been unbearable. But his eyes….they were so different. They were set, with a raw determination that was unrivaled.

Never again will I let anyone hurt the ones I love, never again… 

And with that Trip returned his gaze to the expansive destruction as the flame cast an eerie glow across his features, revealing nothing but an aching hollowness.

* * *

As T'Pol neared the memorial, she saw Trip sitting on the bench, alone, and forlorn. Something inside her fluttered, and she stood still for a moment to collect her resolve.

She had arrived a few minutes before at the investigation camp, and asked for Commander Tucker. No one seemed to know where he was but they had noticed him walking towards the temporary memorial.

Of course, it is the only logical conclusion. Trip would visit the memorial at the first opportunity…

T'Pol was unsettled that, even if it were in her thoughts alone, she had not only called him Trip, but accepted his emotions, even indulged in them.

As he has done so many times with my logic…

She pulled her jacket in closer as the chilly wind cut through her uniform. Though it was not unbearably cold, T'Pol was used to the Vulcan climate and found the weather exceptionally chilly. She once again looked at the man sitting at the bench and her thoughts began to drift.

This is not the man I know as Commander Tucker…he is different.

Her innerself began to war with itself…and she feared the outcome.

That is illogical, he is the same man, he is even in his same uniform. What in the name of Surak do you mean he is a different man?

_Same man, you call the man sitting on the bench the same one who has managed to break down your barriers, managed to comfort you when such a thing should be impossible? Why do you not use logic to realize why you would think that he is different. You are a scientist T'Pol! Observe and deduce. You have done so for your entire life…_

And in silence, both sides agreed. She once again fixed her gaze upon the Commander, focusing on his form.

It was deathly still. There was no movement, no life. His entire body was slouched over a candle that he was protectively cradling in his hands. His eyes were unfocused, the flame catching of the streaks of tears that had dried on his cheeks. Even as she watched she saw another tear begin its journey as some many had that night, only to disappear into his uniform. And the uniform. It seemed that the man always present in that uniform was absent…gone. The Commander Tucker she knew was a constant dichotomy of motion and balance, always talking, alive with expression and life. It had amazed her how he could continuously manage to do _something,_ even when all he was supposed to be doing was sitting. But never this, never this man who radiated so much pain, so much grief that even a Vulcan could not help but feel. And in there was the irony. His face was relaxed, expressionless, and blank. She realized that in the few days at headquarters she had not seen him, she had missed his presence, both his attempts to provoke her and his unsettling thoughtfulness. She continued her silent observation as her mind arrived at the logical conclusion…

He is hardly the same man you met two years ago… 

Even as her thought was reaching its completion, another gust of wind rolled over the destruction, causing Trip to shiver. At that she realized that he had most likely been sitting here for hours. It perplexed her that he was not with his family, over the time she had known him, she knew how much he cared for his family. Even on Vulcan families grieved together, she was surprised that he was here alone, uncared for, discarded.

But she didn't know what to do! How do you offer a human comfort?

Why would you want to offer a human comfort, T'Pol, or are you becoming so emotional to indulge in such pitiful flights of fancy? He is only a colleague, treat him as such.

No, she thought to herself. No. He is not just my colleague. He is my friend, my best friend. She had, after all, only one act of compassion to draw experience from. After Tolaris had attacked her, Commander Tucker had silently supported her, offered his kindness and assistance without being asked, but most importantly, without asking what was wrong. She had never thanked him for it, accepting it for what it was. Now she realized how difficult such a simple act could be.

Walking up to him, she took off her jacket and draped it over his shoulders. Carefully she laid her right hand upon his shoulder, causing him to turn his head and his eyes to lock with hers.

His eyes, they are what he calls "a window to the soul." Where are you Trip? Where is the person I know within those eyes, because I only seem emptiness…hollow emptiness. Where are you…

Even as she thought these words, she could see the barest signs of the person she knew shining back at her. Even so, his eyes red and glazed, trying to control the fresh round of tears which threatened to break his control, but failing as a single tear to run down tear streak cheeks.

At that moment she knew her decision. Her loyalties did not lie with Vulcan, they did not lay with Earth. They did not even lay with _Enterprise_. They lay with her friends, foremost her best friend. And by that very nature, her loyalties were to herself, to be true to herself. With a mental gulp, she decided to be someone who she could be proud of.

Her hand continued to lie on his shoulder, all the while not saying a word. He looked down back upon the candle, and with a movement so soft, so graceful, he laid the candle upon the bench and rose, beginning their walk to the camp. Never once did they say a word, but never once did her hand leave his shoulder either.

Two years ago I would not even shake your hand Trip, but now I wish only to comfort you, even if it is through touch. Don't worry Trip, I will take care of you, I will accompany you on this mission. After all, you are my best friend, a friend for whom I would do whatever you asked, how ever illogical it might be…

The stars blinked back at the pair as they moved away from the memorial where the candle still lay flickering. As the night went on the candle gave away to nature and with a wisp of smoke ended its fiery glow. The smoke rose and disappeared into nothingness as the stars continued to twinkle, smiling at the secret of what was to come for the pair that had said so much, connected so deeply without having said a single word.


	2. Towards the Sunset

**Chapter 2: Towards the Sunset**

Summary: Trip's thoughts during North Star as he approaches T'Pol

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek

Story Note: Every other chapter I'll alternate between the time from Earth to the Delphic Expanse and the time from entering the Expanse up till North Star. Just as a few notes, I'll try to stick to canon timeline as much as possible but sorry for all mistakes, I'm taking some creative license! And the Xindi in this story will be quite different from the canon Xindi (no time traveling, no body discovered on Earth, nada), so apologies for anything that violates canon in that regard, but I'll try to address as many things as possible since I'll still be using the first few episodes for season 3. Thanks!

A/N: Thank you to all that read and reviewed. I appreciated all your comments and kind words, any and all comments are very much appreciated.

**

* * *

November 8, 2153**

I can see her from here, silhouetted against the husky orange of the sky under the arms of a tree, a bandanna covering the tips of her ears, her white top hugging her frame and a dark skirt blending into the hues of the sunset. God she's beautiful. I can still feel her hands from where she held on as we rode the horse, but for some reason it was exhilarating, comforting. Though she's touched me plenty durin' neuropressure.

When did she become the only one I can think about? When did she steal that place in my heart that was left empty all those months before? When did she become the person not that I wanted, not that I desired, but I needed.

As I walk towards her, I know I gotta say it. The three words that we both understand yet we refuse to say. I can't help feel what I feel. She's perfect for me, the only one I'm ever gonna love.

As a dry breeze flows across the sand, I see her short hair flutter ever so slightly and her skirt sway into the sky. For some reason I can't remember how to breathe. I can't believe how lucky I am to have gotten to know such a beautiful soul. How did I ever live without her in my life? When did it all change?

And I'm back at that bench, eight months ago when she draped her jacket on my shoulders and placed her warm hand on my shoulder and in a single moment became my breath, my heartbeat, my life. This is more than just friendship. We both know it.

I come around behind her, placing my hand on her shoulder, just as she did on mine that one night, and I whisper a soft, "T'Pol," and then God, she turns around and I see those gorgeous eyes…


	3. Breakfast and Dreams

**Chapter 3: Breakfast and Dreams**

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.

A/N: Please review, I appreciate feedback and comments, and many thanks to those who do!

* * *

**May 2, 2153**

Captain Archer walked through the Mess Hall towards the Captain's mess, padd in hand, thumbing over Starfleet's latest briefings. _Hoshi's going to have her hands full sorting through all the information Starfleet is throwing at us _he mused. Things were definitely getting messy- Earth was in a state of political uncertainty, Terra Prime was increasing its activity and relations with the Vulcans were deteriorating due to their passive assistance. Xenophobia was running rampant and attacks on aliens had increased dramatically. Even if _Enterprise _managed to deal with this threat Earth would be picking up the pieces for quite some time. With an audible sigh he stepped in only to be greeted by the questioning eyes of his science officer. He almost laughed, _she looks like a kid who's waiting for Christmas morning_. Heck, if she wasn't Vulcan, Archer would have sworn she looked anxious.

He sat down in his usual seat, continuing to skim his report. Though he didn't tell anyone, he hated these reports more than anything else. There was no information, none at all! They had been able to decipher the name of the species from some writing on the probe as Xindi, but other than that they knew nothing. With the Vulcan's aid, they had been able to determine the region of space from where the probe originated and nothing else. While waiting for their meals, he spared a glance at T'Pol.

Though her seat was across from the Captain and didn't face the door, her eyes were still locked on it. _Well it seems she certainly wasn't anxious for you Jon_… Shaking his head, he continued with his report, sipping his coffee as he went along.

He was frankly surprised that she was even here. Without giving any real reason she had three days ago, only hours after departing Earth orbit, told him of her intentions to remain aboard the _Enterprise. _As thrilled as he was, he was also desperately curious. He knew she had had to resign her commission with the High Command, and, well, it seemed illogical.

Before he could continue any further, Crewman Cunningham came in and deposited their dishes. Captain Archer immediately took to constructing his muffin-egg sandwich, taking a bizarre amount of pleasure in doing so. It seemed that it was the only thing he had complete control over even if it were only for a few minutes a day.

"Will the Commander not be joining us today?" T'Pol asked, looking down at her Plomeek broth as if she had no idea how it had gotten there.

He had only managed to make it to step three in his construction efforts today before the question came. Stopping midway with his ketchup handiwork, he looked up at T'Pol slightly annoyed. Certainly a member of a species that espoused the values of logic would understand that the absence of a third setting would imply the Commander would most certainly _not_ be joining them today.

"He left me a message this morning that he was working on some schematics for some modifications to allow us to operate at high warp for such a long time."

"The Commander always dined with us before and he must eat before his shift…" T'Pol began only to be interrupted with an inopportune squirsh.

She looked at the Captain only to see him scowling at the rather large ketchup blotch on his eggs. He seemed to use an excessive amount of pressure with the ketchup bottle whenever something was troubling him.

Pausing midway in picking up her spoon T'Pol changed her sentence, "Is something the matter Captain?"

Setting the abused ketchup aside, he turned his gaze to her, "T'Pol, you've asked about Trip all three days since we left Earth. I think I should be the one asking you."

Knowing her questioning was going to draw attention eventually, she decided honesty was the best answer. "I find the change in the Commander since we left Earth…disconcerting."

Captain Archer's annoyance melted into bemusement and shock. _Just when I thought I was beginning to understand her too…_ he thought. It had to be one of the great mysteries of the universe. For a people who supposedly led a life of logic they had an uncanny ability of being unpredictable. Or perhaps T'Pol was just a special exception. _She certainly is special…_he began. _Damnit Jon, she's your **Vulcan **first officer, get a grip. _

Mentally chiding himself, he turned his attention to T'Pol. "He and Lizzie were really close. Because of their ages, Lizzie ended up spending the most time with him. He probably just needs some time alone to deal with it all, that's all," he said, knowing full well it wasn't as simple as he made it sound. But he wasn't in any position to push Trip; the Vissian incident had spawned wounds that were raw even weeks after.

"Curious, in the time I have spent serving on _Enterprise, _I had come to expect the Commander would wish to not be alone after suffering such a loss."

Captain Archer couldn't help the shock from showing on his face. "Well," he began trying to regain his composure, "Humans need both. Trip, having already spent time with his family on Earth just needs sometime for himself now. Seeing his parents was what Trip really needed. I'm glad we were able to stop at Earth for a few days before beginning this mission, the crew really needed it," he finished as his eyes drifted towards the viewport and his thoughts moved to the mission.

Crew morale hadn't fallen has he had expected. His crew had once again surpassed his every expectation. Most had come to think of the nearly seven-week voyage to the expanse as a break before the _real_ mission began. Though only too aware of the attack and the importance of the mission, for many it had not begun yet and they were enjoying their last days of freedom. Captain Archer was in this boat, knowing that once the mission really began, nothing would ever be the same. For Trip however, he knew the mission had begun the minute they had left Earth. Being the only crewmember that lost someone close in the attack, the mission wasn't just a mission- it was personal. He had seen it in his eyes the other night when they had talked over a few drinks. On the same token, Trip had become a sort of morale officer in the past three days, sitting with various crewmembers at lunch and attempting to offer any comfort he could. Archer saw that as a good sign- the Trip he knew was still there and strong as ever.

T'Pol on the other hand seemed to be the only one who knew that the Commander had not actually seen his family. She had not asked him about it, realizing it was something intensely personal. In fact, she had hardly talked to the Commander since returning to the _Enterprise _four days ago. She didn't share the Captain's opinion; she was concerned that the Commander was spiraling into depression, albeit out of the crew's eyes.

"Lieutenant Hess informed me that she was concerned for the Commander. She said he seemed distracted during his shifts and seems tired most of the time."

"I can only imagine T'Pol, I've been having a hard time sleeping myself. I can't even imagine what it must be like for Trip," sadness touching his voice. Looking up at T'Pol, he knew that the raised eyebrow was a sign for further explanation. With a sigh, he began.

"This mission is giving me and most likely a good number of the crew a hard time going to bed. We don't know who we're dealing with, what we're dealing with, or even if we're headed in the right direction. Well, I mean we're pretty sure that they're called the Xindi and seem to have it in for Earth," he babbled with a sigh. "Don't Vulcans have bad dreams?" He regretted the question the minute it was out of his mouth.

"Vulcans don't dream Captain."

"Right. Frankly, I don't know what to do for Trip. I tried talking to him a few days ago, but he didn't seem to want to. Chef has told me that he thinks Trip isn't even eating enough. There was Pecan pie last night and he didn't even take a piece! Though I can't blame him completely for that one, as good as Chef is it doesn't hold a light to Mrs. Tucker's cooking."

T'Pol's curiosity was getting the better of her. It was the second reference to the Commander's parents and perhaps by asking the Captain she would be able to figure out why she had found the Commander alone at the Florida Memorial. "I assume you know the Commander's parents well?"

The Captain, above the shock at the small-talk T'Pol was engaging in, warmed up to one of his favorite topics. "Ah, the Tuckers. Now there's a pair of humans every Vulcan should meet… they could give logic a run for its money," he said chuckling. "Trip's parents are great people, on the quieter side, but always there. To them nothing is more important than Trip and his siblings. Trip's older brother and sister were considerably older; it's the reason why Lizzie and Trip were so close, going to school together and all. But you should see them all together, it's quite a sight. Perhaps the most chaotic but fun bunch to be around." As he said the words a sudden ache crawled into his chest, remembering all the times he himself had been invited to the Tucker's home, especially after his father's death, seeing them interact, seeing Trip mockingly torment Lizzie. How the Tucker clan would now always be missing such a crucial member and how the happiness that had supported him throughout the past ten years was now replaced with pain.

Seeing the distress in the Captain's demeanor, T'Pol quickly said, "I apologize Captain, it was not my intention to cause you any discomfort."

"No, no T'Pol. It's alright. Perhaps I needed to say everything I did too. But now I'm curious, why the interest?"

T'Pol thought about that. Why indeed? "As first officer, crew performance is part of my duties. The Commander has yet to receive a complaint and Lieutenant Hess's concern warranted an investigation. Perhaps understanding the Commander would aid in my abilities to solve the situation. The Commander must maintain his health, he is, after all, vital to this mission."

The Captain, realizing it was T'Pol's extremely long version of saying "I'm concerned" decided to respond with a simple, "Got any ideas?"

"Possibly, I will discuss them with the Commander," she said with a clipped authority that told Archer the topic was closed. Any further questions would lead to one very annoyed science officer- annoyance seeming to be the only emotion that the Captain could discern from the normally stoic Vulcan.

As T'Pol began to drink her broth, the Captain looked down at his morning masterpiece. The mess of toast, bacon, eggs and ketchup was far from what he had set out to make. As he continued to look at it, the mess seemed to stare at him and say "Watcha lookin' at us for?" _Damn, even my sandwich doesn't turn out the way I'd like _he thought with a hint of disgust. With an exhausted sigh he placed the second piece of toast on the mess and took a bite. It was his first bite of the day and he was already exhausted, the mental toll of the mission constantly weighing upon him.

As both continued to eat, a comfortable yet tense silence settled upon the room, both acutely aware of the missing occupant, and consequently, the missing smirks, comments and humor. As Archer ate through the silence, he realized it was also a testament to Trip's amazing ability to befriend the Vulcan- it seemed he was the only one able to carry the most important conversations with T'Pol, the conversations that were in words about nothing but to the two individuals meant everything.

* * *

Trip rolled over in his bed, sparing a glance at his clock. He knew normally at this time he would be having breakfast with the Captain and T'Pol, but he just didn't feel like it. He knew he should eat, but he knew he wouldn't be able too. And besides, staying in allowed him to indulge and relish in the dream he had woken up from, a dream that had left his face tear-stained, his pillow damp and his spirit exhausted, but a dream he cherished because it was real. It was a moment, a memory that could only be made real in his dreams where his imagination forgot for a few hours the line between fantasy and reality. 

Pulling the sheets up to his chin and lying on his back, Trip took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, the dream was back, playing back for him one last time.

_Trip was a thirteen-year-old boy, dressed in shorts, his favorite blue shirt and sandals screaming "Lizzie!" as she ran ahead of him through the grass, swatting the offending blades out of her way, screaming as she fled from her brother. They were returning home from having watched a movie at the local theater and were running off some excess energy. It was a perfect evening, the sun low in the sky, a pleasant breeze that cooled you off enough to curse its occasional absence._

_For such a little girl, she packed some speed but Trip knew how to get her attention. "Hey Lizzie! I'll getcha a snow-cone…" he said in his most enticing voice._

_It stopped her right in her tracks. After thinking about it for a moment, considering and weighing all her options, she tested the waters with a simple, "Cherry?"_

_"You betcha, now common!" as Trip dashed over to the vendor and ordered two snow cones, handing one to Lizzie and taking one for himself._

_As they set off for home, both settled into a comfortable silence only interrupted by the occasional slurp. As they got closer to home, the first stars begun to shine and Trip looked up and took a breath in amazement as he did every time when he gazed upon the night sky._

_"Watcha lookin' at Trip?" asked Lizzie breaking Trip out of his thoughts._

_"The stars, one day, I'm gonna visit each and every one of them!"_

_"You going to be a captain or something?"_

_"You bethca!"_

_She laughed a small mocking laugh. "Like they'd ever let you near a ship! You can't even eat your snow cone right!" And sure enough, as she said the words some power with a twisted sense of humor decided that part of his snow cone needed relocation and, with a bit of invisible prodding, a blob of ice slipped and fell with a plop on his shirt and began a red, watery journey downward._

_"Why you little!" and before the words were even out of his mouth he was chasing after her again, following her amused shriek more than anything else._

_It wasn't soon after that both were exhausted and simply laughing and walking side by side, half their treats splashed over their clothes, their faces more red than anything else but smiling faces none the less. It was simply the perfect day and as Trip spared a glance at his baby sister, a feeling of warmth and fierce protection surged through him._

Trip opened his eyes and turned to his side, causing the fresh new tears to spill down his cheeks and over his mouth. If only he could grab her from that moment and hold her forever, protect her from everything and anything. Even through his tears a small smile tugged at his lips. There was nothing special about the memory, but it was sweet and something he cherished with all the love he had. As he tasted the saltiness of his tears, all he knew was the sweet cherry on his tongue and the sound of laughter echoing through his quarters. If skipping breakfast allowed him a few more moments with his memories, he'd trade his pancakes for that cherry snow cone any day. He closed his eyes, exhausted from the lack of sleep that he was, and for the time the universe allowed found himself back on that summery evening when he hadn't had a care in the world.


	4. The Ghost of Memories

**Chapter 4: The Ghost of Memories**

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.

A/N: Trip's dreams change soon after entering the Expanse.

* * *

**July 8, 2153**

It was late at night and Trip could be found sprawled over his bed, tossing lightly as he slept under the glow of the Expanse-altered space and the ever-present blue that characterized the ship. Unbeknownst to anybody, Trip's dreams began to take shape and his subconscious, enjoying the memories they usually brought, accepted them for the shallow peace that they offered.

* * *

It was July fifth, a hot summer day perfect for spending at the beach. Trip and Lizzy were with their parents enjoying a day at the beach relaxing and playing. Trip was thirteen and enjoying a quiet walk on the beach while Lizzy had wandered off out into the ocean exploring as she always did. 

As Trip walked along the beach, the soft sound of laughter, the smell of grilled hot dogs and the feel of sand at his feet consumed all his senses. It was really a nice day he thought…

And then there it was. A woman screaming something, about a girl, in the water. Trip turned his gaze to where she was pointing and put his hand over his eyes to block the glare from the sun. What he saw stopped his breath, his heart. It was Lizzie. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The next moments were a blur. He knew he ran, faster than he thought possible, into the water swimming to her body. Without thought or planning, he grabbed her and swam back to the shore and looked over her. She began coughing just as the lifeguard arrived. It was all a blur, as if the memory were viewed through a foggy glass and pieces were missing…

The next three days she recovered in the hospital, letting the damage to her lungs and trachea heal. Slowly pieces of the story began coming together. The most important for Trip: had she stayed in the water any longer, she would have most likely died. Trip couldn't believe that he'd let her down, let her get that close to danger, to trouble. But he wouldn't fail her, never again. This time had been too close.

* * *

As if realizing that something was wrong, his body shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his brows knitting together and small moan of despair escaping his lips. His subconscious was racing. This memory was different. It wasn't pleasant. It was unnerving. Troubling. Different. The previous two months hadn't been like this. Yes the dreams had robbed him of his sleep, but there was a different quality to them. Not like this…not so…his subconscious couldn't place it. And before he could wake, the scene shifted.

* * *

Trip was ten, maybe, but his mind couldn't tell. This wasn't a memory. He knew the place all right; it was the local shopping complex that had a beautiful courtyard where Lizzy and he would hang out with their other older siblings. But the courtyard was empty. Strange…it was always bustling energy and activity. 

He walked on a little, hearing the sound of the fountains in the background. Moving around a tree he saw a young Lizzy sitting at an umbrella shaded table, and as if sensing his arrival, turned and waved to him. Something was wrong, very wrong. Without knowing why he quickened his pace and no matter what he did, he couldn't get closer to Lizzie as if some imaginary force were blocking his path. Out of instinct, he yelled "Lizzie!"

* * *

Trip was beginning to constantly moan as if in pain, writhing under his sheets, drops of perspiration lining his forehead. What was happening? His dreams had never been like this. And then once again the scene changed.

* * *

It was July eighth, the day Lizzie was released from the hospital and allowed back home. It also happened to be her seventh birthday. The memory wasn't from his point of view though, it was as if he were an observer. He was standing in front of a door, Lizzie's door, a sliver of yellow warmth slicing through the floor calling for him to enter. And so he did, pushing open the door to enter the magical world that was Lizzie's room. 

There was some sort of mist in the air, as if the room were stuffy, not in a dirty sense, but more in the sense of time old tradition and sensibility. The room was bathed in golden light from the sole window illuminating the casts of stuffed animals and other assorted toys. It was in the center of the room that he found the action though.

Lizzie was gathered on the floor by her doll house, moving about pieces and people in an elaborate master plan that only she knew the full, in fact, any details too. Today it was about the life of an actress and her pet cat Snuffles, and Trip, luckily enough, was Snuffles. As he watched the scene, he could see his younger self's attention drifting but not for long.

"TRIP! Snuffles goes here," she said, grabbing his hand and correcting his erring ways.

His younger self didn't say anything, just simply complied. He remembered this and how he would never agree to play with his sister and her dolls. He was a guy after all! And thirteen! To think if his friends found out… But then her voice, it was still raspy and it cut through any defenses he had. Her spirit was back but her body hadn't healed. It was her birthday after all, and if it would make her happy, he could be Snuffles for a few hours.

As she continued on with her imaginary script, Trip saw his younger self look at her and smile, and he himself turned his gaze towards her. He hadn't realized before how much he loved her, cared about her. And to think he almost lost her. He'd never lose her, never. A small smile tugged at his lips, hell, he'd be Snuffles for the rest of his life if he had too…

* * *

Though the dream was more like what Trip's subconscious was accustomed to, it realized that this wasn't right. The dream had a purpose. But what? His body was now glistening with perspiration and the sheet had slid down his chest and was clinging to his stomach. But Trip didn't realize any of this. He just turned over and was on his back, his face etched in confusion and worry as his eyes darted frantically under his eyelids.

* * *

He was back in the courtyard. Except he was the person he knew himself to be. The current self. And there was Lizzy, her golden hair flowing beautifully in the air, waving at Trip as if calling him over. But he couldn't move. He was frozen in place as a dreadful feeling encased his soul and stole his breath. 

He looked off into the distance and saw the beam rip through the landscape, shredding his hometown with its incinerating heat. And it was getting close, so close…

"Lizzy! You have to get out of there! Lizzy!" he screamed but he knew it was futile. Nothing was going to change. Nothing. His body numb, he watched as the beam engulfed his sister and with a flash of light…

* * *

Trip shot up gasping, sweat dripping down his face, his chest rising up and down as if he had just ran a marathon. He didn't understand it, why now, why after entering the Expanse? He had learned to deal with his memories, his dreams. He had learned, with help, how to get sleep, to be at peace. But it was now forever shattered. He, however, realized why. Today was her birthday. Would have been her birthday. 

As his eyes drifted across his room, they came to settle upon the picture he kept at his desk. All of a sudden a hidden grief grabbed his soul, ambushing his heart with old memories. His lips trembled and his mind was swept away in all that he had lost. It was like a rush of pain, the loss of his sister, the rejection of his family, the blame, the failure. For the first time in his life he was lost, alone. As his eyes never wavered from his sister's picture, he knew what he was looking at. He was looking at his Lizzy, his baby sister Lizzy, his playful Lizzy, his beautiful Lizzy, his dead Lizzy, and he couldn't look anymore.

He put his head in his hands and covered his face as his grief took control. Sobbing he chanted, "O god Lizzy, I'm so sorry. So sorry. I can't say, I can't say, I can't" in the voice of denial that to each of us is like a stranger who is yet to become family.

It wasn't that he couldn't. It was that he didn't want to. It would require him to admit his failure, his loss, the absence of his Lizzy. But as the sobs took over and only the sound of tears echoed through the cabin, a small whisper expanded and hung over him. He didn't even realize that it was he who had spoken but he had said it anyhow.

After all, it is what everyone must come to say. "I miss you so much."


End file.
